


Midnight Skin and Moonlit Eyes

by SilenceFellAgain



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Eventual Fluff, Fantasy, Gore, M/M, Violence, fae, fairy!jehan, hurt comfort, non binary!jehan, slavery/slave like conditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceFellAgain/pseuds/SilenceFellAgain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan had almost given up their place at university the day that the world discovered the fae, but eventually decided to stay. It quickly became the decision the young poet regretted more than anything else in their short life when after only one class the thick cookie-colored makeup that coveted their cobalt skin smudged and they found themselves captured and forced to work for their keep.</p>
<p>They become a practice dummy in the medical school, being cut open and experimented on daily, until one young student sees the horror in what's happening to the fae and vows to put a stop to it.</p>
<p>I'll add to the tags when more things arise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Skin and Moonlit Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote this on a 20 hour coach journey- not sure how polished it will be and I will go back later and check things. This is my first time writing anything like this in years and certainly the first time I've been brave enough to share it so please be nice, it's always good to hear what people think! <3

Jean Prouvaire had almost given up their place at university the day that the world discovered the fae, but dreamer that they were they assumed they could get along with humans still, and co-exist as they had done for so very long. It quickly becomes the decision the poet regretted more than anything else in their short life when after only one class the thick cookie-colored makeup they'd so long worn smudged slightly on their left hand as they wrote. Normally the slight peek of cobalt would have been written off as a smudge of ink as their hand dragged across their work- it always had been, ever since they were 12 and their skin began to change from the unnaturally pale peach they were born with to the pretty pale sapphire colour it was approaching, though with everyone so on edge and seeing fae everywhere they had no chance. Students screamed, one tackled them and before they could say a word in their own defense they were forced into unconsciousness by a sharp blow to the head.   
When they awoke, disoriented, their immediate thought was to try and find their way back to the forest where their strength lay so that they could try and heal their wounds gracefully, though they quickly found that any hope of escape was far beyond their fragile state in that moment. The fine iron ring encircling their throat and draining away and power that they possessed (not that they were sure the handful of charms they knew alongside their natural plant-growing ability would help much in that situation) didn't take long at all to notice. Their coverup was long since worn away, and their charms had faded.  
One glance down at themselves and they could see hair the same exquisite amber as leaves in late autumn once the sun had well and truly ruined them was cascading over a bare shoulder which between the pure white freckles and clear blue skin appeared as the midnight sky to the poets own romantic eyes. The aesthetic of the sight was ruined somewhat however by the slightly pink areas where their captors had scrubbed roughly at their skin to see if their hunch was correct, and by the torn and useless shirt still hanging in shreds from their slim shoulders.   
Their anger was reflected in the tattoo-like marks of thorns which twisted themselves angrily across their wrists and up their forearms, seeming to choke out and fade the flowers left by their excitement earlier as they continued their path up the eighteen year old's arms. Usually the patters would have curled into reality with emotions so strong as Jehan was feeling in that moment but the iron tightly encircling their delicate throat left them without the strength to do much more than seethe beneath his skin.   
They found no hint of sympathy in the teachers whom they'd so long dreamed of learning from. For almost three months they languished in their cell in darkness, no one quite sure what use a captured fae could be. The campus had no gardens which needed to be tended, and the money which could be brought in by selling the brat off to some rich eccentric in need of a pet was rapidly depleting as more and more were discovered to the point where their captors decided it would be beneficial to keep them caged in the basement of the building until it was worked out what to do with them.   
As much as the small creature in their cell was craving a chance to see the outside world again, had they known the price it is unlikely they would have permitted themselves to accept the offer of a room, and of new clothing, so long as they worked for it.   
The fool took the bargain immediately, and regretted it eternally.  
Their new room was a dingy pit, but at least they found it a world away from the iron cage they'd cowered in for so many months, alone and without contact or true light. They might have appeared as a corpse with their practiced stillness when they first lay in their uncomfortable pallet bed, and might have wept for joy as tepid water was allowed to lap over their midnight skin in the filth-encrusted shower. The clothes they were given seemed to be the contents of a lost and found rather than anything which would actually fit or match, but they pulled on on an obnoxiously brightly colored pair of leggings in some outrages floral pattern on anyway, and paired it with a jumper which almost reached their knees due to their short stature. Despite the mismatched nature of the outfit Jehan loved them for covering up jutting hip bones and sharply protruding ribs.   
One small cracked and grimy mirror in a corner of the tiny room gave them the first glimpse of themselves since they had finished applying their cover up that fateful day in September. Their hair was the same striking red, but it appeared as straw due to their captors tendency to forget about their need for food, and their lack of caring that they could neither eat nor digest meat. Their freckles had faded without the moon to bring them to life, and their once bright silver eyes were long since faded by time in the shadows. The tattoos which curled across their skin seemed wilted, many of the flowers losing petals- though they'd known that already, since they'd begun to find the dried pink and yellow flower petals beneath them when they woke in their cage. The thorns had retreated their path, simply resembling shackles around their bony wrists now. The willow on their left calf had withered and appeared almost dead, it's leaves pooled at the sole of the boys foot and occasionally falling free to rest on the concrete in a moment of particular strength.   
No matter how they twisted they couldn't catch a glimpse of the elegant wings seeming tattooed into their back which could be brought forth in times of need, though it was plain to them that those two would have faded similarly, and likely drooped, become as weak as the rest of them had in their period of imprisonment and starvation.   
Despite all of this though they had a few brief moments to be pleased about their new situation. They had a bed, space to move, and despite the fact that they were still forced to wear the iron collar like a dog, they had some of the humanity which had been stolen from them. The small window set high into the wall became their favorite spot, and they found themselves leaning their hands out of the iron burns, risking the poisonous metal more than the exposure they'd already been given just to try and allow their fingers to grace the frost coveted grass outside, their grin wider than they believed it had been in their entire life when they managed to pluck a small snow-drop from the ground, carefully easing up the roots along with a fistful of icy soil. There wasn't much to be used as a plant pot in that room, but a small plastic water bottle laying forgotten in a waste bin in the corner as well as some précis range from the fae to tear the top of it away, eventually made a nice home for the delicate little thing. They didn't have the power to make the thing blossom brilliantly and instantly as they once did but even in this condition his influence was positive and the little blossom seemed a little stronger as it sat in it's makeshift pot on his side.   
For the first time in three months the fae managed to go to sleep with a tiny bit of hope in their heart, moonlight streaming through the window and pooling on the concrete in a way that makes them wish they had a pen to record their feelings.   
Jehan had work now, a purpose, and things were looking up for them.


End file.
